Ties That Bind
by Marchwriter
Summary: Not all ties are of love, obedience and friendship. Sometimes those of mutual hatred and betrayal can bind two people together with more power than any other force. An orphaned halfelf confronts her past and her old mentor for the last time.


**Author's Notes**: This story is based on Elaine Cunningham's _Elfshadow_. This is a little "gapfiller" of Arilyn seeking closure at the end.

**Disclaimer**: All characters and places are the property of Wizards of the Coast and Elaine Cunningham.

* * *

**The Ties That Bind**

By: The Lady of Light

"I need to see Kymil Nimesin." Arilyn Moonblade was not known for her patience and it was rapidly running out as she waited outside the thick, oak-planked, inner doors in Waterdeep's vast prison on the outskirts of the city.

The uniform in charge of guarding those doors looked a little out of his element when confronted by a tall, grim-faced ranger and a half-elf fighter with a glowing sword.

"For goodness' sake, man, do as the lady asks. Otherwise, she'll be dreadfully out of temper and would cause such a stir. It'll be a short visit I promise you," the drawling voice came from the blond-haired man lounging against the wall. He glanced around at the rather austere walls. "Ever thought of painting these walls? A cheerful atmosphere always lightens the spirit, I say. Perhaps a nice shade of _green_."

"Do you never stop?" Arilyn hissed at him as the guard, upon sighting the Thann crest on the dandy's shoulder, whisked out of sight.

"Never," Danilo replied glibly though his eyes were still darker and heavier than his usual wont. He ran a finger over the glove that covered his burned hand.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" the tall ranger at her side asked. His tone was noncommittal as though her answer held no repercussions for him but Bran Skorlsun's eyes were where he had his emotions and they fairly glittered with concern.

Arilyn did not look at her father. "Yes, I'm sure."

The minutes crawled past while Arilyn paced back and forth between the walls in front of the door. None spoke.

The guard returned a few minutes later, a little breathless with his collar askew. "My superior officer says only one's allowed inside."

Bran's eyes narrowed slightly but he did not challenge the order. "We will wait for you here." Danilo nodded almost imperceptibly behind him.

Arilyn's gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she walked into the corridor. The iron-bound door slammed shut and bolted behind her. She followed her guide down dark and damper corridors and flights of stairs leading into the very bowels of the prison. Kymil Nimesin was kept in no ordinary cell; she could feel the increasing tingle in the air which fairly hummed with magical energy. Her moonblade sang joyfully in response.

"It's probably a good thing you came today," the guard said to her as he opened a final door. "He's getting shipped out tonight." Arilyn knew from Bran that Harper agents would come to extricate the gold elf by nightfall and bring him to his more permanent residence beyond the reach of all those who would hunt him down in revenge for their families. The half-elf pitied them.

"He's the last cell. Don't get too close to the bars," he smiled. "You'll get fried."

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she walked forward knowing the click of her boots on the stone announced her. As he was responsible for the deaths of nearly thirty Harpers, some of whom had been friends of the local guards, Kymil Nimesin's cell was barely at minimum comfort. Bare stone and earth walls, no windows, a plank board and ragged blanket for bedding which looked untouched. A distinct ripple of satisfaction undercut her apprehension at the thought of the patrician armsmaster enduring such quarters even if it was only for a matter of hours.

Kymil Nimesin stood with his back to the more open wall, staring at the stone with a blank concentration that suggested he was far beyond the pale walls of his imprisonment. At the sound of her approach however, he turned, his face darkening with recognition.

She halted in front of the cell and straightened as his eyes raked her face, unblinking. With an almost leisurely insouciance, he approached the bars, his movements as lithe and supple as ever though with a new menace like a stalking cat become a tiger. He stopped within a foot of her as though he chose the distance and not the humming bars of magical energy that kept him pinned within his holding cell. He surveyed her in silence but the dark hatred breaking from his eyes in waves screamed promises of violence on her. Unconsciously under such a threat, her hand drifted to the hilt of her moonblade.

Kymil's marble eyes narrowed at the sword, now restored to its former strength and power and permanently beyond his reach. He was calmer than he had been during the trial. She had never seen such a look of mingled rage and disbelief on her teacher's face save when she had defeated him before the elfgate. But what had frightened and sickened her beyond anything else, beyond the horrors and destruction she had waded through in the last few days, was his cold satisfaction when the court pronounced sentence.

The Harpers in general were not executioners. Their Tribunal had only so much power to punish and Kymil's reputation and the testimony of some powerful, compelling and utterly misguided witnesses like the headmaster of the Waterdeep Academy of Arms had swung the jury in the gold elf's favor. Banishment rather than death. However, they were not without a cruel sense of justice and she knew Kymil probably would have preferred death which would make him a martyr in the eyes of his followers rather than eternal punishment on some distant plane where all his lifelong plans would fall into the dust and forgotten.

Despite her newly-instigated identity as mistress of the moonblade, she had questions that needed answering, more personal than formal.

"I need to know," she began with no trace of formalities when he didn't break the silence first. "Why did you choose me? Was it just convenience? I was easier for you to manipulate than any of your other students? Like Filauria Ni'Tessine."

Kymil's obsidian eyes glittered at the mention of the circle-singer who had been both his student and his lover, slain in the final battle before his arrest.

"What? Did all that screaming at the trial make you lose your voice? Kind of hard for anyone to hear you over all those clamoring for your death." She was hoping to goad him into an answer so her time here wouldn't have been a complete waste.

He remained silent and staring. Knowing he would have liked to see her agitated, Arilyn quickly capped her frustration and loosened the death hold she had on her weapon. The minutes itched on the back of her scalp and she knew the guard wouldn't let her stay here forever. Danilo and Bran waited for her and they still had a long journey ahead of them. If he chose to remain stubbornly catatonic, she would have to leave without her answers. She turned away.

"Yes."

She stopped and looked back at him. He had drawn a few inches closer to the bars but though he did not look at them, he was keenly aware of their lethal vibrating. " 'Yes,' what?"

"You were so malleable: lost, alone, a bastard without any claimable family or truly any lineage worth speaking of." His words still scorched but she didn't flinch. He was desperate and bitter. Like many maverick revolutionaries bent on destroying the royal family, Kymil had the fault of hubris and no qualms whatsoever of explaining his brilliance. "I gave you a purpose. A life worth living."

"As an assassin?" she queried with a raised eyebrow.

Kymil smiled, a delicate curve of his golden lips that did not mitigate the loathing in his eyes though whether that emotion was directed at her or inward she couldn't say. "Though it does pain me to admit it…you were one of the more…talented…students I have ever trained." Surprisingly there was no mockery in his tone that she could detect. She had been under his tutelage since the age of fifteen and had counted him her most trusted friend and advisor even after her coming of age when she gained her independence from the Academy.

_All the wisdom he had passed on, the wounds he had tended, the tears he had dried—_and she begrudged him every one! Kymil Nimesin was not notoriously known for his warmth and kindness with his students. But he had taken her under his wing when she had no one else; in a sense—and it hurt to concede it—she owed him.

And he knew it too.

"I saved you. What might you have become without me, hmm? A waif. Another gutter brat wandering the streets. Or perhaps even an ornament at the Madam's House of Pleasure."

"You betrayed me. The only reason you even took an interest in me was to use me," her words were hard as steel and the empty gulf in her heart widened with every syllable.

"You do not see it!" he moved closer. There was an ominous crackle and he stepped back hastily. He cleared his throat and spoke a little more calmly. "My dear child, you are so blinded by what you think of as your sole indignities you cannot see it was done for the greater good."

That touched a chord and her eyes narrowed. She was sure the Harper Tribunal had not even brushed the iceberg's tip of what Kymil was really guilty of.

"You could have been among my Elite had you cooperated."

"Then I'd be just as dead as they are wouldn't I? How many of them did you have to bribe and threaten to go along with this treasonous scheme of yours?"

He sniffed disdainfully as if he thought her question wasn't even worth his consideration. "None. They served me of their own will and fervor. The cause will miss them," he said, ironically echoing the words he had spoken over the lost Harpers.

"You don't seem to care much for your students."

"That shows how little you know," he sneered as though she'd answered an exam question without the evidence to back it up. "Centuries of work destroyed in a single moment." The anger in his eyes returned and he waved a perfectly symmetrical hand at the bars in front of him. "These humans are fools thinking this place or any place can hold me. They would never have left me alive if they knew what I have done."

The serenity returned to his smooth face and he laughed, sending a ripple down her spine. Folding his hands demurely in front of him as though still giving a lesson to his impatient pupil, he intoned, "Plans are in motion, my dear Arilyn. Even as I am imprisoned, others are still out there, biding their time just as I will. We gold elves do have the virtue of patience over others. The Balance _must be preserved_. And I intend to see it restored."

"You still think you're right," she shook her head. "Even after everything, you still cling to your delusions. You never could let go—"

"We are taking back what is rightfully ours," he snarled, cutting across her. The word 'delusions' had stung, she noted with a twinge of satisfaction.

"Even if it means innocent lives?"

Kymil had been pacing back and forth behind the bars but he stopped suddenly and aimed an altogether too understanding gaze at her. "Some sacrifices must always be made for the cause. You should know that better than most."

Arilyn stared into the resolved, golden face of her former mentor and lifted her chin. She was no longer the student but the mistress. She owed him nothing anymore. Her hand rose and clasped her moonblade tightly. "Yes. Sacrifices."

Her gold-flecked eyes held his obsidian for a measured second. Then, without looking back, she spun on her heel. Her long pace carried her swiftly back down the corridor towards the surface and those whose friendship she treasured.

What would come would come in time and she would be prepared when it did.

* * *

**Author's Note**: A short interlude but one I missed in the book. The end fight of _Elfshadow_ while extraordinarily satisfying felt a little lacking. Comments are appreciated.

Best,

The Lady of Light


End file.
